


cheese has an expiration date

by Zayrastriel



Category: West Wing
Genre: Canon-Compliant, M/M, Season 2 drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:31:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zayrastriel/pseuds/Zayrastriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh gets an unexpected but not unwelcome visit as he's recovering from the minor event of a shooting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cheese has an expiration date

“What are you doing here.”

“Amazing, it’s like the question mark isn’t even there,” Sam replies easily, not even glancing at Josh as he dumps his briefcase on the coffee table in front of the couch Josh is lounging on.  ”Please tell me you have something that isn’t a week past expiration date in your fridge.”

After an abortive attempt to push himself to his feet (it’s not like it’s actually Josh’s fault he keeps forgetting about the  _goddamned bullet hole in his chest_ ) Josh settles for a pointed glare in the direction of Sam’s back.  ”You don’t even have a  _key._ ”  And that’s true, as far as Josh knows; the only person who has a copy of Josh’s apartment key is…

_Really, Donna?_

It’s like he doesn’t exist, though, as he hears the fridge open and close.  ”Is this still cheese?  Because I’m pretty sure it’s breathing!” Sam calls from the kitchen.

“It’s maturing,” Josh mutters under his breath. 

Not softly enough, clearly; Sam emerges from the kitchen clutching a box of raisins and raises an sculpted eyebrow of the Sam Seaborn, writer professionelle kind.  ”Yeah, mature - I’m pretty sure it looked ready to walk out the door and start its own business.”

“What are you doing here?”

“No seriously,” Sam continues - really?  He was shot, sure, but he’s still  _alive -_ “the thing has legs.”

Thankfully, by now, Sam’s sat down on the couch next to Josh, close enough that it barely tugs at the wound when he leans across and punches Sam’s arm with a certain amount of viciousness.

Sam yelps.  ”That wasn’t necessary!” he protests.

“Sam-“

“Alright, alright, alright,” his friend says quickly as Josh raises his fist threateningly again.  ”I just wanted to see how you’re doing, okay?”

There’s nothing particularly unexpected about that - anything White House-related, Sam would have just called.  But the way Sam says it - softly and rushed, like he’s both ashamed and unrepentant, makes Josh…

…whatever that emotion is when you get the horrible lump in your throat and have to blink really fast because your eyes are watering  _and no, he is not about to cry_. 

“Are you crying-“

“ _Shut up_.”

“Right.”

Josh’s eyes are closed so he doesn’t see Sam move; but somehow he knows Sam’s coming closer, doesn’t flinch with surprise when familiar lips cover his briefly, chastely.

When he does open his eyes, what feels like a lifetime later, Sam’s not looking his way, instead swallowing down a handful of raisins.  He must feel Josh’s gaze upon him, though, because he glances over, waves the box at Josh.  ”Want some?” he asks around a mouthful of food.

“Raisins?  Seriously?”

“It was this or the cheese with legs.  Go figure.”


End file.
